


Rebuilding the Inquisitor

by PumpkinQuest



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, At least they left the dog alone, Comfort, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Injection of pure silly, Just might take a while, Prank War, Romance, Sad with a Happy Ending, Shenanigans, Things getting better, Trespasser DLC, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:59:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7410358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinQuest/pseuds/PumpkinQuest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Lavellan has returned through the Eluvian determined to use the Inquisition to stand strong against what the Dread Wolf plans. But the man behind the title, Tharion, may need some help in getting back to a state where he can stand up under the weight of his new responsibility.</p><p>AKA my flailing attempts to deal with the end of Trespasser. A series of one shots charting Tharion's recovery, his romance with Cassandra, and whatever else I feel like writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the Winter Palace after the fight with the Qunari and confrontation with Solas, all Tharion wants is to have a bath and go to sleep.

All Tharion wanted was a bath. Searing hot water to scrub away the feeling of betrayal off his skin even if scrubbing it from his mind would be a long time coming. He hadn't planned on being long, indeed had told Cassandra as much. Yet over an hour later he was still submerged in the increasingly cool water, the heavy Orlesean perfume faded to a memory now the steam had dispersed.

Hand shaking with exhaustion and suppressed rage, Tharion picked up the soap once again and tried to build up a lather. It slipped from his fingers, this time going up over his shoulder. Instinctively he tried to grab it with his other hand but succeeded only at smacking the stump of his arm against the side of the tub as the soap fell to the marble floor. The shock of pain jarred straight up into his shoulder, bringing tears to his eyes and a curse to his lips.

"Dread Wolf take y-" He bit off the curse mid shout. Dread Wolf take it indeed. All curses aside, his current predicament was entirely Fen'Harel's fault. However, it was highly unlikely Solas would have any need for Tharion's half used soap. Images of the dignified elf summoned to his room bu the curse to claim the rebellious object as a prize flashed through his head, leaving him unsure whether to laugh or cry.

A rustle of movement in the bedchamber behind him caught his attention. Tharion felt a stab of guilt join the pool of emotions. He should have known that shout would wake Cassandra.

"Tharion?" she called out, voice still thick with sleep. "Are you still in the bath?" More movement, the rustle of heavy silk falling away. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine," Tharion said. His voice sounded strange to his own ears, tight and strained as the sound squeezed past the lump in his throat. "Go back to sleep, I'll be there soon."

More noise, not of her settling back against the pillow but the sound of bedclothes being thrown aside and footsteps padding across the floor. Tharion's back was to the door of the bathing chamber. He hunched his shoulders over, curling in to try and shield himself from her gaze/ He didn't want to turn and look, didn't want to see the pity in her eyes.

"You do not sound fine," she said bluntly. "Do not send me away while you are in distress."

Tharion swallowed hard, trying to rid himself of the lump still lodged in his throat. "I just wanted to wash my hair," he said after a moments silence. "I got rid of most of the gore when we got back through the Eluvian." Frantic wiping away the mess and dirt gained in the battle against the Qunari, Cassandra's voice in his ear grounding him as they hunted for injuries beyond the most obvious. Tharion had still been in shock at that point, too horrified by Solas's actions and revelation to be able to give them any guidance of his own injuries. "But it still doesn't feel clean." Tears started leaking out his eyes despite his best efforts to hold them in. "I just wanted a bath! Get clean and feel like myself again." Wash away some of what had been done and leave him better prepared for the rest. "But that fucking blight curse soap!" He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a bitter laugh. "Just look at me. Shouting at a bar of soap. It's pathetic." He was pathetic.

Cool hands snaked over his shoulders, pulling him back against the tub. The pressure was gentle but irresistible. His head sank back against the edge and Cassandra's hands sank into his thick red hair, rubbing soothing circles across his scalp.

"It is not pathetic," Cassandra said, voice as soothing as her hands. "It is only natural." Tharion made a disbelieving noise. "You think I did not shout and rage when I learned of Lucien's betrayal? What he'd done to the Seekers and those that followed him, that trusted him? I called the Maker's wrath down on everything from the tavern door to my boots." Her hands moved down to rub at his neck and shoulders. Tharion felt himself relaxing inch by inch, his lover's hands far more efficient than the hot bath water. "Your world, your faith, has been ripped out from under you. You have been robbed of part of yourself by a man you once called friend." And still did, which made the pain all the sharper. Cassandra had been much quicker to express her anger than Tharion when the Viddasala had told him of Solas's true allegiance. The violent outburst of her rage had faded but the intensity of the feeling was still there behind her words. "You are allowed to not be all right."

"I just wanted to wash my hair," Tharion said, voice small and gaze fixed on the far wall but eyes no longer really seeing it. "I've face down one of the Magisters that broke open the Golden City. I've fought an Avvar god. I should be able to clean myself!"

One of the hands on his shoulders vanished. There was a faint scrape on the marble floor and then it reappeared, clutching the wayward soap. He started to reach for it but Cassandra dipped it into the water herself before releasing his other shoulder to properly work up a lather.

"Cass-" he started.

"Hush my love," she said, voice gentle but still brooking no argument. "I have seen many men and women lose limbs in my time with the Seekers. Sometimes injuries are too severe to treat and amputation is the only option left. I have witnessed their struggle and I know it is not easy. You have been _injured_. You are hurt, not weak. There is no shame in accepting help, or admitting you need it. Please Tharion, let me help you."

Tharion swallowed hard. "I..." he started before thinking better of it. "You're right. Of course you're right." If this had happened to her, Gods forbid, wouldn't he do anything to try and help her through it? "Thank you Cassandra."

Strong soapy fingers worked their way into his thick hair, working through the knots and tangles, removing the grime and gore of the earlier battle.

"What would I do without you?" he asked as she tilted his head back to start washing the soap out again.

"Stay in the bath all night apparently," she said archly. But from this angle he could see her smile. He closed his eyes as the lukewarm water ran through his hair, helped by the Seekers fingers, finally leaving him clean and free.

_I'm going to marry you someday_ he promised himself. When he could do things like this again for himself. A proposal taken straight from the most romantic of story books, to sweep her off her feet and take her breath away. _Someday..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at Skyhold Tharion is having some difficulties in dealing with the very visual reminder of his formerly beloved Creators. Tired of his moping, Sera steps in.

The first thing Tharion did when he returned to Skyhold was throw a sheet over the full length mirror standing in his room. A few servants tried removing it before he snapped at them to leave it alone. He knew they whispered about it, had heard them when they thought he wasn't there or wasn't listening. They all thought it was because of his arm, that he kept the mirror covered because he didn't like to look at it.

They were right in part; he did not appreciate the reminder every time he caught his reflection in a looking glass but it was hardly the only one he had to face. Every time he had to turn or reach across his body to take something made him aware of the loss. Every time he used magic, his familiar gestures and the easy way he used to wield a staff forever gone, he was aware. Every item of clothing in his wardrobe, altered to prevent his empty sleeve flapping uselessly in the breeze, made him aware. A thousand little reminders everyday that one covered mirror wouldn't stop.

If only his reasons for hiding the mirror were so simple. But he kept his reasons to himself and with no clarification the servants continued to gossip. And over time the gossip reached those closer to him, a fiercely protective someone who wasn't about to let tact or privacy get between her and helping a friend.

"The Dalish do have mirrors, right?" Sera asked, head stuck under the sheet covering the one in his room. "Ones that don't go all weird and shit Qunari assassins?"

Tharion had been engrossed in Hard in Hightown and hadn't even noticed her presence in his room until she'd spoken. He'd actually dropped the book in surprise. At least it was no longer instinctive to grab at it with his missing hand. He frowned as the book thumped closed on the floor, but he could find his page again easily enough. He bent to retrieve it before sitting down on the edge of the bed, setting the book aside.

"We have mirrors," he said. "True, aside from the Eluvians they tend not to be as large as this, but we do have them."

"Then you know they don't frigging work when you cover them up. Makes them pretty much useless, yeah?"

Tharion closed his eyes and resisted the urge to sigh. "Is there something you wanted, Sera?" he asked, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Yeah, I wanna know why you're keeping this covered up." She tugged at the sheet and Tharion tensed, wondering if it was going to fall. "People been talking. Rude that, to talk about people like they're not there just because no one can hear them. But they still do it. Saying you don't want to see your arm. But it's stupid because your arm is right there. You see it every time you look down. So I thought I'd come see why you were really doing it."

"It's complicated," Tharion said. He wasn't sure if that was really true or if it was just his feelings behind the reason that were complex. Or if it was all just a big excuse so he didn't have to think about it; a sheet over his mind as well as the mirror.

"I'm not stupid you know," Sera shot back. "I know there's a load of stuff I don't get and feelings are hard. That people don't always want to talk about what's hurting. But cheering up a friend ain't complicated. Or it is but you still got to try, yeah? So you should tell me or..." She glanced over at the window. "I'll throw it off the balcony!"

Tharion blinked. "I'm sorry, you're going to throw the mirror off my balcony? What good will that do?"

"I dunno. But you won't have to cover it up any more, so there's that. And it might be fun. One good shove and TISCH!" She threw her hands up in the air. "Glass all over the frigging place! Be shit to clean up though. Worth it if it gets you smiling again." She shrugged and came over to sit next to him on the bed.

The irritation faded and guilt started to set in. He hadn't been the most fun to be around these past few weeks. And Sera had been restrained, giving him time to recover and adjust. He couldn't be angry when she was just trying to help the only way she knew how.

"It's not my arm," he admitted. "It's..." He swallowed and then gestured at his face, finger running over the vallaslin across his forehead, the intricate tattoos dedicated to Mythal. "It's these."

That clearly hadn't been what Sera expected. "What? Your face?"

"The blood writing," Tharion clarified, irritation flaring again briefly. "It's just...they used to mean so much to me, but now they're just a reminder that everything I knew, everything I cared about, was built on a lie. Seeing them makes me feel the loss of everything they represent all over again." He got up off the bed and started to pace. "The history and heritage we worked to preserve, what I was charged with teaching my clan one day when I became keeper. All proved false." And the feelings of that were all mixed in with the grief over the loss of his clan. The pain was less intense now that time had dulled the wound but he didn't think it would ever fade entirely. He had relied on the history of the Dalish to help keep their memory and way of life alive. Their death in Wycombe just increased the importance he placed on his heritage. Now all in ruins.

He stopped his pacing in front of the mirror, reaching out to run a finger along the fabric of the sheet covering it.

"I believed in the Creators completely," he continued. "It still feels wrong not to offer my devotions to them. Finding out these markings were slave brands to honour people no more divine than the Magisters..." He shook his head and let his hand drop.

"Who cares what they used them for?" Sera asked. Tharion turned. Sera was standing again, hands on hips and a frown on her face. Tharion opened his mouth to respond, but she pointed at him and carried on talking. "No, look, just shut up yeah? I mean, those elfy gods have always been stupid what with the Maker right there, but it's like...whatever. Who cares if they were Gods or Magisters or even frigging demons! I don't see why the Dalish have to be so elfy all the time, but that life and those tattoos make you _you_. And you're good people. You shouldn't have to stop being you and caring about what you care about just because some really old elves were shits. I can't make you okay with what those old shits did, 'cause they've already done it," she continued. "It's just history, innit, even if no one knew till now. But they're dead and you're not, so what does it matter what they used all this for? You're alive so you get to say how things work."

"You think I should just rewrite history?" Tharion asked. "Ignore what the Evanuris were and just deal with the rest?"

"Why the frig not? I mean it's like...the Dalish still did stuff after the Veil fell. Joined Andraste, settled in the Dales, all that shit. There was that other Inquisitor who was all elfy too. That's still important stuff to you, right? So bugger your demon god things and just worry about the other stuff."

It wasn't a perfect solution. There was still a lot of unresolved issues Tharion wasn't sure how to work through with all of this. But Sera did have a point. There was a lot more to being Dalish than just the Creators and a lot more to their history than Arlathan. And there was nothing that said the history he wanted to preserve and rediscover had to be good. The truth might be harder to accept, but the truth often was. It was down to him to decide what he wanted to do with it.

"So...what d'you say?" Sera asked. "Feeling better, right?"

"I think I am actually," Tharion said. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"This mean you're going to stop being stupid and let the mirror do its job again?"

Tharion cast a glance over at the covered mirror. With one decisive motion he reached out and pulled. The sheet hissed as it crumpled to the floor, folds of fabric brushing over others, and pooled around the base. He still wasn't sure how he felt about the vallaslin any more but at least now the revelations in the library were being countered by Sera's dismissal over their relevance to his life. Even if the creators themselves weren't worth honouring, the things they represented were still worthy.

"I think I'll be all right now," he said after a moment. "Care for a little rooftop time? If I start acting stupid again you can push me off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abrupt ending is abrupt. Which I might fix later but my current attempts for a more rounded ending keep wandering off into Sera complimenting Cassandra's tits, which isn't the feeling I wanted from this bit.
> 
> It took me a while to warm to Sera as a companion. A bit like Cole, I had to be in the right sort of mood to talk to her without a headache. I only really started having her in the party when I randomly found she worked really well with my dragon slaying duo (Cass and Blackwall - Tharion mostly ran around and tried not to die).
> 
> Then Trespasser happened and Sera was just so sweet. She made Tharion's day by telling him some of his Clan might have survived the massacre at Wycombe and she was the only one to ask if he was all right when the revelations about the Evanuris came out. So yeah. Now I love Sera. Sad bad things I will fight you.
> 
> Although saying bad things about how well I've captured her voice is still valid. There are bits I think I've got her spot on and others where...yeah, it could be anyone speaking. And Sera really isn't just anyone. But I've tried!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cassandra and Sera are Doing Things and Tharion recruits Dorian to help him find out what.
> 
> Alternatively, in which everyone is out of character and the role of Dorian is played by a shiny rock.

"Dorian! Dorian! I need to talk to you! It's urgent!"

Tharion was wedged into a small quiet corner in the Skyhold garden. Corypheus being two years gone meant many of the refugees had now left, taking many of the healers with them as their services were far less required. In addition, winter starting to settle in meant fewer people were willing to linger outside unless they had to, leaving the garden more or less abandoned.

A moment later the sending crystal Tharion was speaking into started to glow and Dorian's voice crept through.

"If you've started another war without me I'm going to be most put out, Inquisitor. I've rather got my hands full with the one on my own doorstep." There was an odd echoing quality to his voice that Tharion hadn't heard before.

"Where are you?" he asked. "Your voice sounds...odd."

"I'm having a new wine cellar built," Dorian said. "Filled with the very finest vintages. You simply must come and see it before it's all gone."

"Just how long will it take you to clear an entire cellar full of wine?"

"You'd be amazed who is willing to listen when you have an entire crate of Aggregio with their name on it. But you said you had something urgent to talk about so let us move on from my interest in deep, dark holes and focus on your current crisis. I am all ears."

Tharion looked round to make sure he was definitely alone before speaking quietly into the stone. "Cassandra is planning something."

There was a short, puzzled silence.

"Cassandra does that sort of thing, old boy," Dorian said after a moment. "Productive woman. Makes plans and carries them out while we wallow in idle decadence."

"I know, but she arrived in Skyhold a week ago and I've barely seen her. She's been holed up with Sera of all people!" The two women didn't exactly dislike each other, but they were hardly the other's first choice when it came to good company. That Cassandra was electing to spend time with her over Tharion was deeply suspicious. "They're down in the Undercroft with Dagna. Snap at me every time I try looking in."

"I see...you are right, that is worth worrying about. I'm sure they're not planning your downfall, but it is definitely out of the ordinary."

"What do you think I should do?"

"Throw yourself on Cassandra's mercy and beg until she tells you what's going on?"

"You really think she'd tell me?"

Dorian laughed. "Of course not! Not until she was planning to tell you anyway. Just the idea of you on your knees begging for things is very appealing."

Tharion fought the urge to roll his eyes. The satisfaction of doing so was so much less when no one was there to witness his irritation. "Any suggestions on how I might get in there?" he asked, ignoring the suggestive comment. "Do you remember any other ways in aside from the door in the main hall?"

"No easy routes," Dorian confessed. "All I can think of is scaling down the side of the castle wall. Try not to slip if you go that way and don't tell Cassandra it was my idea if you get caught. I doubt being in Tevinter will protect me from her wrath."

Tharion thought back to his first time on the Storm Coast and the number of cliffs he'd fallen down in his attempts to get from A to B. And those hadn't even been sheer surfaces. He didn't much trust his luck on something even more vertical.

"Right, so another route isn't going to work." Tharion said. "Any thoughts on how to get them out so I can sneak in?"

"Ah, now there I may have a few more ideas..."

\--

"So...how did it go?"

The voice echoing out of the stone held such hope. And it had every right to! The plan had been a good one. It had even involved a completely valid excuse for why Tharion might have wanted to use the Undercroft himself!

"They saw through it," Tharion confessed. "Almost instantly!" He leaned back against the library door. It made it feel less weird to talk to Dorian here. This had been his favourite place to spend time while at Skyhold. If he closed his eyes it was almost as if his friend was back. The only thing to complete the illusion would be a spritz of Dorian's aftershave. "I'd barely had a chance to open the door before Sera was there, barring me entry. When I explained what I wanted Dagna just appeared from beneath her arm, shoved a bunch of supplies at me and shut the door in my face!"

"I see. And the device itself?"

Tharion sighed. "The requisition shed wasn't ideal, but the work space was suitable enough to get a reasonable prototype."

"Oh well done Inquisitor! I'm so proud of you. Maybe I should give this teaching thing another try. However, since you didn't start this conversation with a declaration of success I'm guessing your prototype didn't yield any results?"

"Apparently all my questions have made for a highly suspicious trio. Dagna knew exactly what I was trying to make. And she came up with something that could just...stop it working."

"She stopped it working? Do you know what she used?"

Tharion gave the crystal a dirty look. "I wasn't in much of a position to ask her. I slipped it through that crack in the bottom of the door and I heard a few snippets about a 'proper fit' and 'lyrium infused casing' before it just started crackling. Last I heard was 'he's very persistent, isn't he?'. Cassandra sounded fond at least."

Dorian was doing a terrible job of hiding his laughter.

"I can feel the sympathy all the way from Tevinter."

"I am naturally very expressive. So, do we have a second plan?"

Tharion sighed. "If I time it right...Cullen is due back next week and he usually wants to consult with Cassandra before he presents anything to me. Get another military person's perspective so he only passes over what they think is relevant. Which would leave me with just Sera and Dagna to distract..."

\--

"If anyone ever asks, being tarred and feathered is nowhere near as much fun as it sounds."

"So I take it the prank war didn't go as planned?"

Tharion ground his teeth together. "Not exactly, no."

The crystal exuded silent expectation.

Tharion sighed. "Sera was more than up for it. She convinced Dagna. With Cassandra out the way with Cullen for a couple of hours I thought it would be perfectly safe. Clear coasts and all that."

"But?"

"Again with the suspicion. They clearly anticipated my wanting to use it as a distraction."

"Almost as if you've been making a habit of this sort of thing."

"Not helping, Dorian." Tharion sighed and tried running his hand through his hair. It got stuck part way through and he winced as he pulled it back out, a few feathers coming with it. "So with them off trying to turn Cullen's hair grey, or arrange to have dead fish mailed to Empress Celene, or whatever, they constructed a booby trap around the work table."

"Did you at least get a look at this mysterious thing they're working on?"

Tharion groaned. "Of course not. They had a box set up on their work table just waiting for me to open up and take a look. So I open it and...poof! Spring loaded glue bomb and a shower of feathers from the ceiling. Oh, and a note telling me to 'Jog On, Big Ears!'."

"Charming. So you're currently covered in feathers."

"I got most of them off in the Undercroft," Tharion admitted. "Left a little pile of them behind, held together with glue and shame. Hopefully the rest will come off in the bath." He was less sure how to explain the state of his clothes to the servants.

"Ah well. Third plan?"

"I'll have to come up with something for Sera on the fly...but I do have a way to distract Cassandra. It means I'll have to get something different for a Wintersend gift but...it's worth a shot. I'll let you know how it goes."

\--

"I must admit I'm starting to fall short of ideas. I would have sworn that one was going to work."

"It nearly did!" Tharion said. He'd still not moved from where he'd collapsed on the bed when Cassandra was finally finished with him. "She was delighted with it. Made that squealing noise she swears I'm imagining."

"I still don't see what she sees in Varric's writing. I swear, I've sneezed out more compelling reading."

"Not everything has to be the height of classical literature," Tharion pointed out. The crystal made a rude noise. "But she only had eyes for the manuscript. Wouldn't have noticed if Corypheus himself had returned from the grave in our bedroom. I'd barely made it down to the Undercroft door when she's suddenly right next to me dragging me back to bed!" Normally he wouldn't complain about such things, but he'd been so close!

"Not that you're not dashing and attractive and thoroughly worth ravishing at short notice," Dorian said. "But that sounds a little...unlike our dear Seeker."

Tharion picked up the now abandoned manuscript pages. "Apparently Varric was trying something different this time. A co-writing project with an old friend of his from Kirkwall. It's made the contents considerably more...racy." He didn't know who this Isabela was but her influence was clear.

"If it was enough to make Cassandra forget reading and just pounce like that I might have to give this one a try. I can't imagine another person's influence would make those books worse."

"This does mean I'm still no closer to finding out what they're doing _and_ I now have to find her a different Wintersend gift." He wondered if it was too late to get hold of a compilation of poetry by that Antivian she liked so much.

\--

"I'm just going to have to beg," Tharion said. "The only other idea I've currently got involves Cullen's dog, and I think it's got more sense than to risk getting on Cassandra's bad side."

"So after all this time you're just going to give up?" Dorian asked. "I'm ashamed, old boy. Utterly ashamed. But if you keep this up you are just going to end up breaking something. Soon scaling the wall is going to seem like a viable option."

"It's not giving up," Tharion protested. "It's...finally seeing sense. Giving Cassandra less excuse to look at me like I'm an idiot."

"Not sure there's anything that's going to stop that now. You have been keeping my name out of this I trust?"

"As far as anyone knows you're as innocent as ever."

"Oh dear."

That at least made Tharion smile. "All right then. I'll let you know how it goes." He dropped the stone into his pocket and left the library.

\--

"Are you crying, old boy? Surely Cassandra can't have reacted _that_ badly to your begging."

Tharion rubbed his eyes with his sleeve and laughed lightly. "Actually she reacted pretty well. Decided I'd suffered enough and was going to relent and show me what they were working on."

"Oh? Given the tears I assume it was worth it?"

"They made me an _arm_ !" Tharion said, feeling a wave of emotion trying to rise up again. "A silverite gauntlet. I don't know what Dagna's done but I can feel _magic_ through it." He was forced to pause, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead as tears once again tried to escape. "It was incredible. Even if I can't relearn how to use a staff properly, with that I might get the full range of my spell casting back!" He would try not to run before he could walk, but it gave him hope he'd not had in quite some time, hope he hadn't realised he'd abandoned until it came flooding back. "I do feel a little guilty though. Apparently it was meant to be a Wintersend gift from all of them and I've spoiled the surprise."

"I must confess I'm surprised Sera managed to keep it a secret for as long as she did," Dorian said. "She was so excited when Cassandra suggested it I thought she would explode right there and then."

Tharion blinked. "Wait...did you _know_ about this?"

"My dear boy, I know everything. But regarding this I assisted by sending Cassandra some schematics. I don't know if those were the ones Dagna ultimately used, but they should have made a good starting point at the very least. Given how bad all my advice has been these last couple of weeks I'm sincerely surprised you never guessed at some level of sabotage on my part."

"You..." Tharion made a noise of irritation. "I cannot _believe_ you!"

"Sworn to secrecy by Cassandra herself. Nothing I could have done."

Tharion shook his head and sank down in Dorian's old chair. "I'm going to marry that woman someday," he said. "As soon as I can think of a good way to propose, I'm going to ask her."

"Ah, see now there I might have some ideas that could actually be of use to you..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had such grand ideas for this chapter. There would be epic shenanigans followed by a dramatic revelation which would make Tharion cry. Then I found I was really, really bad at writing shenanigans so just cheated by having Tharion tell Dorian what happened afterwards. I'm relatively happy with the end result so I guess it isn't a total loss.
> 
> I also don't know if Wintersend gifts are a thing, or if the Dalish even celebrate it. But I like presents and so they do here.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter is over and so Tharion and Cassandra have to go their separate ways. But there is still time to share a few tender moments.

Winter gave way to spring slowly in the mountains around Skyhold. But even here the snow and ice lost its grip eventually. The passes cleared, enabling easy travel once more, and Tharion could no longer put off the inevitable.

  


"Are you sure you are truly ready for this?" Cassandra asked. They'd taken advantage of the warming weather and lack of storms to escape the chaos that had enveloped the castle at the Inquisitor's imminent departure to venture further afield than usual. They had settled in the small quiet clearing Tharion had come to think of as their spot. If he closed his eyes he could still picture the place lit by the soft glow of a hundred candles and the look of wonder on Cassandra's face when she'd first joined him here. While they hadn't felt they'd really have time for a repeat of everything from that evening, a little time together with just the two of them and a book of poetry. Although between recitals conversation had fallen to other things. Namely the reason Tharion was leaving.

  


"No," Tharion admitted. "I'm not sure this is something I'll ever be truly ready for." The destruction of Clan Lavellan had nearly broken him when word had reached Skyhold. Going to the place so many of them had died, knowing that if I'd done things just a little differently..." Tharion sighed and shook his head. Thinking that way led to madness. Thinking about all the things he could have done to save them didn't change that he hadn't been able to. Cassandra reached out and placed a warm, strong hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Tharion raised his own to cover it. "But if what Sera's friends heard is true then I need to go. I am still their First." _Their Keeper_. If Istimaethoirel had survived she would have found a way to gather other survivors to her and got word to him. "If any of them are still alive out there it's my responsibility to look for them. Bring them to safety if possible." He swallowed. "And if in the process I find out that the Jenny's rumours were a mistake or I left following them up too late..." He shrugged. "No one said that responsibility was fun."

  


"I still do not like the thought of you going out there alone," Cassandra said. "We have no idea what you might face there and you are not as proficient with that arm of yours as I would like."

  


Tharion rubbed at where Dagna's gauntlet was fastened to the stump of his arm beneath the sturdy travelling clothes. It was testament to the dwarf's skill that the fit had been perfect first time and it hadn't rubbed or caused any discomfort no matter how he moved. Nothing would make it feel like his real arm again but as far as prosthetics went he could not have done better.

  


"I'm more proficient with this than that crossbow contraption Sera jury rigged for me," he put in. "For someone taught to fight at range my aim really is terrible." Maybe the hunters could give him some pointers when (if?) he found them. Help him look like less of an embarrassment. "But you'll be with me until Amaranthine and from there I'll be in Varric's city. By all accounts Kirkwall is much safer now there's no longer an ancient Magister kept locked up beneath it." Once he left Kirkwall for Wycombe things might get harder but even without his gauntlet he'd been far from outright helpless. "Though I  would keep you with me too, if I could." But she had her own work to do and he wouldn't keep her from it for anything. The Seekers were family to Cassandra almost as much as his Clan was to him and her determination in bringing them back to their former glory was awe inspiring. 

  


And attractive. Very, _very_  attractive.

  


But while neither of them liked the separation after having grown used to being in each other's company again over the winter, they could survive it.

  


"You are right," Cassandra said. Her hand fell back down to the book of poetry in her lap, running over the worn leather cover. "I know you are right. And I have no desire to handle you with kid gloves for the rest of your days. But I do not have to like it."

  


She looked so sour that Tharion couldn't help but laugh. He shifted on his stone seat until he was kneeling before her. With his good hand he plucked a couple of spring flowers and reached up to thread them into Cassandra's soft hair.

  


"You're allowed to be worried about me," Tharion said gently. "I worry about you too, even though if anyone attacks you _they're_ the ones that are going to be in trouble." His hand trailed down the side of her face to gently brush over her lips. "There's a lot about me to miss. Especially my exceptional..." He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Poetry recitals."

  


"Ugh!" Tharion laughed again as Cassandra swatted at him with the book, causing him to fall back off his seat. "You have a filthy mind. I never should have encouraged you to read Varric's books." But despite the fierce blush she was smiling.

  


"Don't blame Varric. There are some things this Antivan poet comes out with that would make Bull blush!"

  


In the distance a bell started chiming the hour.

  


"Third bell," Cassandra said with a sigh. "I believe that is our cue."

  


"They'll will be expecting us." Tharion got to his feet, brushing some of the grass and mud off his clothes. He bowed to Cassandra and extended his right arm. "If my lady would do me the honour of letting me escort her back to Skyhold?"

  


Cassandra's wide smile grew wider still when she gave him her hand and he kissed the back of it. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure."

  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no post! But this story has been ticking away quietly in the back of my head, even if it has been largely sat on by coursework and other writings. But a little while ago I commissioned the very talented kirkwallgirl for a picture of Tharion and his beloved Cassandra, and the result was so unbelieveably gorgeous that I just had to try and write some fic for it. The book Cass is holding was originally meant to be something of Varric's, but since Tharion already gave that to her and she's also very fond of poetry...it's now dodgy Antivan poetry.


End file.
